


Bad Dream

by Pupthemedurl



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 18:16:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17411822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pupthemedurl/pseuds/Pupthemedurl
Summary: There’s many things that keep Joonmyun up at night.





	Bad Dream

Joonmyun sighs and tip toes into the room, not bothering to check the time. He knows midnight is a distant memory, and right now that’s all he needs to know. The only light in the room comes from the street lights outside, the orange glow dull and muted. Chanyeol has long since fallen asleep, curled up under the blankets beside Joonmyun’s usual spot. Only a bit of his hair peeking out from the covers lets him know he’s even there. As quietly as he can, Joonmyun strips down to his underwear and slides into bed beside him. Chanyeol hums in his sleep and curls up next to him, snuggling beside him. With a small smile Joonmyun wraps his arms around him, letting his warmth guide him to sleep.

* * *

 

He finds himself in a world of gray, lying on dry, brittle grass. Cautiously he opens his eyes, staring up at a moonless sky that’s swirled with dark clouds. The shadows from the trees surround him in a tight embrace, darkness overlapping til it’s thick to the touch. He hears water moving in the background, but from where he can’t tell.

 

“Took you long enough to get here,” A man’s voice, Chanyeol’s voice, makes him sit up with a start. Chanyeol stands above him, wearing a dark, hooded robe. He removes the hood, revealing his harsh, stoic expression, offset by heavy bags under his eyes.

 

“Chanyeol? What’re you doing here?” Joonmyun asks, brows furrowed in bewilderment.

 

“Why wouldn’t I be here?” Chanyeol counters, and Joonmyun is taken aback by how curtly he speaks. This is not the warm, lovable man that he fell asleep beside, but someone else entirely. He can feel spikes of animosity radiating off of him, subtle yet sharp feelings of disdain keep him on edge.

 

“Where am I?” Joonmyun inquires carefully, not sure what will set him off.

 

“Where do you think? I can’t believe you don’t recognize this place,” Chanyeol rolls his eyes, sounding more impatient with each moment.

 

“I don’t understand, why are you angry with me? Have I done something wrong?” Joonmyun asks directly, hoping his growing sense of worry doesn’t seep into his tone. He can feel his hands begin to tremble as dull pulses of adrenaline enter his bloodstream.

 

“Oh I have every reason to be angry,” Chanyeol sneers bitterly, taking a step forward that has Joonmyun leaning back, “We don’t spend any time together. We barely get even a few moments to ourselves anymore. And when you decide to pay attention to me, it’s never long enough. You neglect me every chance you get, and then wonder why you feel so drained every day. Why you can’t focus, why you’re always on edge, why you can’t seem to function like a normal person.”

 

His words are like a punch to the gut, and Joonmyun feels his heart beating faster as he pleads, “That’s not true Chanyeol. I love you. I need you in my life.”

 

“I wish you would start showing it more, but I guess your work is just too important.” Chanyeol folds his arms and sighs, as if giving up, “It helps to keep a roof over our heads, after all.”

 

Just as quickly as he arrived, Chanyeol disappears in a cloud of smoke, dissipating before his eyes. Joonmyun calls for him and tries desperately to grasp the smoke, but Chanyeol is gone, and the wisps slide between his fingertips.

 

An orange light in the distance stands out against the darkness that surrounds him, dull and muted. Slowly, Joonmyun stands, folding his arms as an unforgiving gust of wind nearly knocks him off balance. He shivers a bit as he walks towards the light, his flimsy tee shirt and boxers doing nothing to shield him from the sudden cold. The light seems so warm and inviting, and without thinking he walks faster, then jogs, then runs right into it.

 

He all but dives head first into the light, only to free fall into a blinding orange abyss. He lets out a scream as he descends ever so slowly, the sound lost in this silent vacuum of space. Images seem to float upwards as he falls down, memories of things from both dreams and his waking hours. They pass by in picture frames, moments in time that speak a thousand words a piece. Laying on the beach at sunset, the waves lapping gently at the shore. The stress of figuring out how to keep his business from going under, represented by endless stacks of paper and demanding stares. A metaphorical monster, chasing him through a hallway as the floor disappears below him. Chanyeol’s smile, bright and happy as he opens his last birthday present.

 

Chanyeol. He has to figure out why Chanyeol is so angry with him. What did he do wrong?

 

One of the images floats beneath him, and before he knows it he falls straight through the frame. The wind is knocked out of him as he lands on his back on a cold, hard floor. The back of his head pounds from the impact, and he feels himself fading in and out of consciousness.

 

“What the hell are you doing down there?” A deep voice challenges, and Joonmyun’s heart sinks as audible disappointment seems to penetrate his very being. Rubbing away the pain from the back of his head, he looks down and finds himself in a tailored black suit, suddenly feeling hot and restricted.

 

“Get out there! You’re already late!” The voice snaps, and Joonmyun stands to find an impatient Kyungsoo standing at the door.

 

“They’re waiting for you,” Kyungsoo narrows his eyes, urging him forward through clenched teeth. Hands shaking, Joonmyun approaches, taking a stack of index cards from Kyungsoo before stepping out.

 

The light is blinding as he steps into the room. Cameras go off all at once, not allowing him a moment’s reprieve as another bright flash blinds him. A spotlight beams down on him, outshining the fluorescent bulbs on stage and over the audience. The light bounces off the copper interior of the room, the columns and floor both polished to hold a mirror-like sheen. He squints against the light, putting his hands up to try and grant himself just one moment without being assaulted by brightness. A dozen microphones materialize in front of his mouth, to the point where the crowd can hear his very heartbeat. His breath quickens, amplified by the mics, and his panic only grows by the second.

 

“Go on,” Kyungsoo mouths from the backstage, his frown deepening into a full on scowl.

 

Clearing his throat, Joonmyun squints and looks down at the cards in his hands, beginning to read, “I know you all must be wondering about what happened. Well, I’m here to tell you the truth, the full truth, and nothing but.”

 

“The truth is I’m a fraud. I’m not fit to lead. I’m not strong, I’m not brave. I’m not even smart...” Joonmyun trails off, frantically looking through the rest of the cards. It’s nothing but negative affirmations, about how he’s a terrible businessman, a terrible CEO, and how his company’s failing is because he’s a terrible person.

 

He can’t say all that to the reporters in front of him. But the cameras roll and the lenses seem to peer into his very being, so he knows he has to say something. The reporters and onlookers stare at him expectantly, so he knows he has to say something. Kyungsoo is glaring at him from backstage, so he knows has has to say something.

 

The people’s attention turn from him to each other as they converse with each other in loud whispers. They speculate about why he isn’t talking, and why his name is on the front page of all the tabloids. The dull pain in the back of his head now turns into a pulsing headache as the whispers start to get louder and louder, drowning out his thoughts and second only to his deafening heartbeat.

 

“Come on, say something you idiot,” Kyungsoo’s hushed voice snaps beside him, right in his ear, “Everyone is waiting. You don’t wanna let them down do you?”

 

Joonmyun opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. He can’t even so much as feel his voice in his throat, and he puts a hand over his chest to make sure he’s still breathing. His chest rises and falls erratically as he starts hyperventilating, taking a couple steps back away from the edge of the stage.

 

“Coward,” Kyungsoo chastises, “You’ve never been scared before, why start now? Oh that’s right you were always scared, and now everyone knows.”

 

Joonmyun can’t find it in him to argue. He’s right. He’s always right.

 

“I should be running this company. You know that. You’ve always known that.” Kyungsoo belittles him more, and Joonmyun can feel his lips curl into a smile against his ear.

 

Once again, Joonmyun can’t find it in him to argue. He’s right. He’s always right.

 

“You should go, before you make an even bigger fool of yourself.” Kyungsoo instructs, cocking his head towards the exit.

 

And Joonmyun complies, stepping quickly off stage before sprinting out the door, his heart pounding against his chest. Because Kyungsoo’s right. He’s always right.

 

Joonmyun pushes the door open and lands face first in another room, pain shooting through his chin before his headache begins to disappear. He lays there for a moment before he decides to stand, finding himself surrounded by nothing but light blue. Thin white clouds materialize by his feet, just solid enough so he doesn’t slip through. Carefully, he walks forward, feeling himself about to fall at any possible moment.

 

A figure appears in the distance. He squints as he sticks out his hands, trying to balance as the clouds slowly start to gather by his feet. The figure becomes clearer, taking the form of a man dressed in a white suit, a man he recognizes as--

 

“Minseok!” Joonmyun throws caution to the wind and runs over to him. The clouds form a path between the two, and Joonmyun takes this as his cue to sprint forward, joy taking the place of his previous apprehension.

 

“Hello Joonmyun.” Minseok greets him with a friendly smile, arms open for a hug. Joonmyun pulls him into an embrace, holding him close. He grips him tightly and lets out a breath that turns into a shallow sob, resting his head on Minseok’s shoulder.

 

“It’s been far too long,” Minseok says as he pulls back, the smile never leaving his face.

 

“It sure has,” Joonmyun concurs, voice low with disbelief and overwhelming happiness, “It’s so good to see you again.”

 

“I almost forgot what you look like,” Minseok quips jokingly, and just before Joonmyun laughs he adds, “Then again, I almost forgot what everything looks like.”

 

Joonmyun’s smile quickly morphs into a look of dread. Minseok chuckles at his expression, waving it off with a dismissive hand, “I’m kidding, of course I didn’t forget. I can’t forget. Those memories are all I have now.”

 

Joonmyun opens his mouth to speak before closing it again, not sure how to respond. Minseok still looks calm, eerily serene and adding to Joonmyun’s growing sense of discomfort. Minseok, picking up on this, cocks his head and asks, “What’s wrong Joonmyun? After all this time you have nothing to say?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Joonmyun whispers, eyes downcast, “I’m so sorry, for everything.”

 

“There’s no need to apologize,” Minseok states, tilting his head in thought, “Actually, there is a need, but there’s nothing you can do about it now. You made your choice.”

 

“A choice I wouldn’t have made if I’d known,” Joonmyun mutters, too ashamed to look him in the eye.

 

“Known what? That’d he’d actually pull the trigger? That you basically told us your company, and your pride, was more important than us?” Minseok’s words are accusatory, but his voice is as calm as ever, as if he’s having a pleasant conversation. It matches the peacefulness of the sky surrounding them, and it unsettles Joonmyun to no end, guilt churning viscously in the pit of his stomach.

 

“I wasn’t going to negotiate with a madman who put a price tag on your heads,” Joonmyun argues, but he’s stopped by the iciness in Minseok’s otherwise warm gaze. That tinge of bitterness that lets him know Minseok feels a bit of resentment is more than enough to shut him up.

 

Minseok shakes his head and tsks, as if gently chastising a child, “There’s no point going back and forth about it now. Not while I’m here, and it _is_ your fault that I’m here.”

 

Joonmyun all but screams as he falls straight through the clouds, the light blues of the sky quickly morphing into bright, harsh oranges and reds. As quickly as he started falling he lands on his hands and knees on solid rock that burns to touch. He gets up and finds that he’s surrounded by flames on all sides, intense heat flickering around him.The flames close in around him, cutting him off from the sight of the sky and forming a dome of fire around him. Minseok stands in front of him, and though he’s not smiling, the contentment on his face never leaves.

 

That was the thing about Minseok. He never gets angry. Disappointment and annoyance he’s no stranger to, but he _never_ gets angry, even when he should be.

 

“Not for nothing, but if it wasn’t for you, I’d probably be tenured at my alma mater. You know how much I would’ve loved that.” Minseok’s words continue to be counterpoint to his disposition, and the guilt in his stomach turns into bile in the back of his throat.

 

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Joonmyun apologizes, closing his eyes as he feels his throat tighten.

 

“My life was hell after that night, so this existence is no different,” Minseok remarks, looking around as the flames roar loudly around them.

 

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Joonmyun apologizes once again, holding back tears. He doesn’t even bother to stand up, kneeling in shame before him.

 

“What exactly are you sorry for? That you let them die, or that you tried to turn into someone you’re not to save us?” Minseok questions gently, leaving Joonmyun completely speechless. How was he supposed to answer that, while he still manufactures a wall of denial about the entire event?

 

“You’re not a killer, Joonmyun. You never have been. You’re the head of a company, not a mafia. You should’ve just paid him so we could go home free.” Minseok states in a matter of fact tone, pacing forward just a couple steps.

 

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Joonmyun repeats, having completely run out of words.

 

“You remember that thing he said? That he’d cut me for every minute you delayed until a hour passed?” Minseok inquires curiously, and Joonmyun can only nod, a few tears leaving scalding rivulets on his cheeks.

 

Minseok rolls up his sleeves anyway, revealing ghastly red tally marks along the length of his arms. Joonmyun grimaces in disgust, but he’s unable to take his eyes off of them. Each poorly formed scab is a reminder of his failure, of how he let his pride get the best of him.

 

“Funny thing about this place. The scars that brought you here will never leave. I have these and the bullet that eventually, well, took me out.” Minseok chuckles at his cruel jeer, shaking his head as he rolls up his sleeves again, “I also have the scar on my leg from when I fought those bullies for you. But then again, what’re brothers for?”

 

Joonmyun is frozen in horror, barely breathing as he can do nothing but stare at Minseok. He can’t feel his heartbeat anymore, he can’t feel his chest rise and fall, and he can’t feel the love of an older brother he used to have. All he can feel is the heat that surrounds them, and the disgrace of knowing that he’s the reason his family is gone.

 

“I look forward to the day when I can see you here again...permanently. I wonder what sort of scars you’ll bear.” And with that, Minseok backs away into the flames. Joonmyun desperately chases after him, yells of Minseok’s name turning into wails of agony as the flames engulf him. The fire burns right through his suit and dances atop his skin in flickering tendrils. Searing pain covers him from head to toe, until moments later he feels nothing at all. The feeling in his body disappears, and so does the world around him...

*****

“Dr. Kim will be here soon.” A voice tells him, but he can’t see who it is or where it came from.

 

“Minseok?” Joonmyun sits up hopefully as the voice’s words fully sink in, but a sharp pain in his side and chest forces him to lie back down. He looks down at his arms and finds no burns from the last place he was in, as if the slate was wiped clean.

 

“Not exactly.” Someone else counters, someone who’s all too familiar.

 

A steady beeping sound compels him to look around. A sharp, sterile scent floods his senses as light floods his vision, and he puts his hand up to shield himself from the harsh fluorescence. Before long, a tall man comes into his field of vision, peeling back the curtain that cuts him off from the rest of the room. A tall, stunningly attractive man, that takes Joonmyun’s breath away even now. The name on the tag he’s wearing says Dr. Kim. Dr. Kim Jongin, the laminated tag hanging off a white coat.

 

Different kind of doctor.

 

“I’d take it easy if I were you.” Jongin suggests, gently guiding him to lay on his back.

 

“What happened to me?” Joonmyun asks cautiously, feeling slightly uneasy as the lights begin to dim on their own.

 

“You were shot three times, and one was dangerously close to your heart,” Jongin informs him, writing down some numbers from the monitor, “You’re lucky to be alive.”

 

Joonmyun doesn’t respond, instead leaning back and trying to remember how he ended up shot in the first place. The room around him seems to close in on itself, the walls melting ever so slightly before folding into a dome shape. The heart monitor beeps faster as Joonmyun grips the sides of the bed, backing away as much as he can until he feels the wall mold itself around him. His breath quickens as he swears the light mint of the walls slowly becomes the bright orange he narrowly escaped from.

 

“Shh, relax Joonmyun,” Jongin coos, placing a hand on his face and thumbing his jawline, “I decided to take care of you this time. It’s better than just yelling at the doctors who handled your recovery the last time.”

 

“Besides,” Jongin continues, the corner of his lips quirked in a smirk, “I know you would’ve much rather had me as your doctor.”

 

The walls cease to move, but instead the room starts to shift into something else entirely. The heart monitor disappears, and so does the IV needle in his hand. Joonmyun looks around frantically, only to be pushed back down by Jongin. His grip is tighter now, insistent on holding him in place.

 

“What’s wrong Joonmyun? You look distressed,” Jongin’s voice takes on a dark heaviness as the room contorts even more, the walls turning from light mint to deep red.

 

“Why don’t I slip into something a bit more comfortable and help you relax?” Jongin suggests with a coy smile, toying with his coat before undoing it. The white fabric slides to the ground, revealing Jongin’s well-toned form as his hospital bed widens into a king sized mattress. Only a black thong separates him from complete nudity, and his shadow completely covers him as he straddles his lap, pinning him down by the shoulders. As if his hold wasn’t enough, dark silk sheets surround him, the smooth curtain of the covers keeping him tucked in place.

 

“Jongin, get off,” Joonmyun tries to sit up, but to no avail. Jongin’s grip is now strong as iron, fingertips digging into his shoulders as his blunt nails prick his skin. If it wasn’t for the small cluster of candles that appears in the corner, Joonmyun would be completely blind. Flickering light and shadow working in tandem to highlight the planes of muscle on Jongin’s body, the beautiful features of his face, and the devilish glint in his eyes.

 

“Why? You’ve always like this one on me.” Jongin pouts and tilts his head, still looking appealing despite the creeping feeling of dread that pulses in time with his rapid heartbeat. A table materializes by the door, and Joonmyun knows from experience that it’s decorated with sex toys of all kinds.  


“Yea, back when we were together. We’re over now.” Joonmyun reaches up and tries to pull him off, only to have his hand slammed back down against the pillow within seconds. He hisses as pain shoots through his wrist, but he can’t help but push back against the hand that holds him down. This isn’t right, he knows this isn’t right, and he needs to get out while he still can.

 

“Over?” Jongin scoffs, his sultry tone now saccharine to the point it borders on sour, “That’s not what you said when we--”

 

“I know!” Joonmyun blurts out, and the walls ripple for a split second, as if acknowledging his protest, “I know, and that was a mistake. One that I--”

 

“Will never forgive yourself for.” Jongin rolls his eyes, scoffing before his signature smirk returns to his face, “We always did finish each other’s sentences.”

 

“Jongin please, let me go,” Joonmyun pleads, trying in vain to sit up, buck his hips, anything to get Jongin off of him.

 

Jongin grabs his other wrist and pins them both by his head, leaning in menacingly, “You wanted this, remember? Don’t forget you were the one who called me that night. You were the one begging to sleep with me again. You were the one with a boyfriend.”

 

“You were the one getting married!” Joonmyun spits back, glaring up at Jongin.

 

At this Jongin pauses, laughing spitefully at Joonmyun’s obvious anguish, “Never said I was a saint, but that doesn’t make you any less of a dick. You knew about my engagement, but you still called me over to your place and we fucked like we never broke up all night long.”

 

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” Joonmyun snaps, but his anger isn’t enough to get Jongin off of him.

 

Jongin doesn’t back down and keeps taunting him, lips now hovering so close Joonmyun shudders as he feels them against his own, “You always did love having sex with me. How long did it take you to realize that was the only thing you loved about me?”

 

“Enough!” With a sudden burst of strength, Joonmyun breaks free of Jongin’s hold, knocking him off the bed in the process. He doesn’t think twice and races out of the room, not looking back. He runs past the living room and through the open door, sprinting down the hallway.

 

Before he knows it the elevator is in sight, gleaming gold in the light, but the no matter how much he runs it never gets closer. The hall gets longer and longer, the tables and vases extending as well, while the elevator remains just out of reach. Picture frames materialize on the walls before elongating as the picture frames did, depicting moments from when he and Jongin were together. The elevator soon disappears, turning into a memory of their breakup before stretching as well. Panting, Joonmyun charges forward and leaps through, the paper tearing with a loud rip as he leaps out of the building.

 

He lands with a thud on the ground, the roughness of uneven cement bruising his face. He finds Chanyeol sitting on the ledge by the stairs outside their apartment, lazily strumming his guitar. His eyes seem so vacant, as if he isn’t all the way present. His body is also faded just a bit, and Joonmyun can just barely make out the outline of the buildings across the street through his robe.

 

“Oh good, you’re here.” Chanyeol’s voice is hollow with disinterest, and he barely looks up to face Joonmyun.

 

“Listen, Chanyeol, I’m sorry for what I did. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I just want you to know I’m sorry. I want you to know that you’re the one that I want, and you’re the one that I love.” Joonmyun hopes that Chanyeol gets what he’s trying to say from the look in his eyes and how carefully he’s putting together his words. He can’t even bring himself to admit it to himself, much less tell him.

 

Chanyeol shrugs, seemingly unphased by the remorse that radiates from Joonmyun, “It’s fine. That’s actually not what I was talking about earlier. We’ve been through this a while ago, remember?”

 

Joonmyun blinks in disbelief, shaking his head, “Wait, seriously? Then what were you angry about?”

 

“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t matter.” Chanyeol sighs, picking up his guitar and standing, facing the town in the distance.

 

“It does matter. Tell me what had you so upset so I can fix it,” Joonmyun insists, reaching out to touch Chanyeol’s hand only for him to pull it away from his grip. To say he’s hurt is a severe understatement.

 

“Please, I don’t wanna fight. Now I said it doesn’t matter. Can’t you just let it go?” Chanyeol sounds absolutely defeated, like he lost a battle he’s been fighting for far too long. Joonmyun knows there’s something more beneath the surface, but for his sake, he complies.

 

“Will you stay with me?” Joonmyun requests gently, adding a soft, “Please?”

 

“For a little while, sure.” Chanyeol agrees, heading down the stairs as Joonmyun follows close behind.

 

The world around them is a blur of soot and ash, the buildings blending into each other, barely distinguishable from the sky. Chanyeol takes the lead as he walks down the sidewalk, Joonmyun staying close behind. No matter how close he gets, he can’t feel the familiar heat of Chanyeol’s body, which always seemed to radiate with warmth. Instead, he feels nothing, even as he tries to hold his hand once again. It slips right through, the man before him nothing more than a phantom. The sun appears in the distance, hovering above them millions of miles away, but even it feels closer than Chanyeol.

 

The soft sound of crying catches Joonmyun’s attention. He turns down the street and follows it, listening as those sobs get louder and louder before he comes across a form hunched over on the sidewalk. The form is dressed in all black, shoulders shaking in time with its heaving breaths.

 

“Hey,” Joonmyun says softly, placing a hand on the figure’s shoulder as he asks, “Is everything ok?”

 

The form raises its head, and Joonmyun is greeted with Baekhyun’s crying face. His eyes are so red they’re nearly bloodshot as tears run down his face, nose twitching as he sniffles profusely. His lips tremble as he attempts to speak, and the first few times no words come out, just unintelligible snivels that break Joonmyun’s heart.

 

Without thinking, he sits down next to him, placing an arm around his shoulders. Baekhyun shrinks into him and sobs into his shoulder, and Joonmyun can feels his own grief returning to him in sharp waves of sadness.

 

“I’m so sorry Joonmyun,” Baekhyun’s voice is unstable as he apologizes, as if it’s painful for him to speak. Joonmyun can hear the tightness in his swollen throat, and he presses his lips together in concern.

 

“Sorry? For what?” Joonmyun wonders aloud, “Baekhyun, what’s wrong?”

 

“I should’ve been there. I should’ve done more. I should’ve helped you,” Baekhyun remarks cryptically, the end of his sentences cut off with whimpers of sorrow.

 

“Baekhyun what happened?” Joonmyun presses, keeping his voice low and gentle as he continues, “You can tell me, it’s ok.”

 

The air moves around him as snow falls to the ground, surrounding them in a blanket of frozen crystals in a matter of moments. Short shadows appear on the ground in rows as Baekhyun’s crying increases in fervor, leaning a bit to the side away from the sun. A large shadow covers them in a cloak of cold air, as frigid as it is foreboding. Joonmyun shivers and grips Baekhyun tighter, trying to shield him from the pervasive chill.  

 

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Baekhyun apologizes again, gripping Joonmyun’s collar as it turns from a hospital gown to a black suit in front of his eyes. Joonmyun doesn’t have to look up to know they’re surrounded by rows of gravestones. He already knows, the same way he knows who the large mausoleum they’re sitting in front of belongs to.

 

“It’s ok Baekhyun,” Joonmyun says, half lying for his sake, “I’ll be alright.”

 

Baekhyun wraps his arms around him and sobs louder, his body shaking with each heave of his chest. Joonmyun holds him close, rubbing his back in soothing circles. He bites his lip to hold back a rush of sadness, simply embracing Baekhyun. But even he can’t stop the tears from falling, and he rests his head on top of Baekhyun’s so he doesn’t see him cry.

 

Joonmyun has no idea how long he’s sitting there, but a few inches of snow have piled on his shoulders, and his knees are completely covered in freezing white. Baekhyun has stopped crying, but a few stray tears still fall as he mutters, “First your parents, and now Minseok. You must be so sad.”

 

A heavy weight settles in the pit of Joonmyun’s stomach, enough to make him feel nauseous. He swallows thickly and hums, searching for a way to stay strong for Baekhyun’s sake.

 

“I’ll be alright,” Joonmyun nods, sneaking a glance up at the mausoleum, as if to confirm what he already knows, “Really I will.”

 

“How do you deal with it? Being so sad all the time?” Baekhyun inquires wiping the last few tears from his eyes.

 

“I manage,” Joonmyun forces himself to say, not believing himself for a moment. It seems to be enough for Baekhyun, who stops asking questions and stops crying completely. And if it’s enough for someone else, it’s enough for him, no matter how hollow the phrase.

 

“Minseok didn’t manage,” Baekhyun puts in softly, and though he didn’t mean to, hurt stabs Joonmyun right in the heart.

 

Begrudgingly he nods, letting out a shaky sigh, “I know.”

 

“Listen,” Baekhyun sniffs, finally sitting up, “If you need anything, anything at all, you be sure to let me know. I don’t want you to get yourself killed.”

 

“I should be telling you that,” Joonmyun says with a hollow chuckle, giving him a grateful squeeze, “Thank you Baekhyun, for everything.”

 

“And Joonmyun?” Joonmyun looks up at Baekhyun’s question, feeling his blood run cold as Baekhyun continues in a voice as frozen as the icicles that form above them, “Tell Minseok I said hello.”

 

And just like that Baekhyun is gone, leaving Joonmyun cold and alone as a cloudy day turned into a frigid night. His layers of black clothing do nothing to shield him from the cold, and his face freezes even as sweat gathers beneath his shirt. A man cloaked in shadow stands before gravestones a little ways away, placing a bouquet of flowers in front of one before sliding his hands in his pockets. Joonmyun walks over to him, if for no other reason than to not be alone.

 

The closer he gets, the clearer yet more obscured this man becomes. The moonlight, despite how dim, glows off of his sharp cheekbones, the rest of his face shaded with night. He squints as he recognizes who this man is, approaching with caution, “Jongdae? What’re you doing here?”

 

“Joonmyun,” Jongdae greets him stiffly, trying and failing to force some pleasantry into his voice, “I should’ve known I’d find you here.”

 

Joonmyun, instantly understanding his pain places a hand on his shoulder, “Listen Jongdae, I--”

 

“It’s ok,” Jongdae cuts him off curtly, letting out a long winded sigh, “It’s ok, really.”

 

“Are you sure?” Joonmyun questions, not entirely believing him.

 

Jongdae procures a cigarette from his pocket instead of answering, and the flip of a zippo lighter echos off the rows of stone. A bright orange glow coats the end of the cigarette before dimming, a thick rush of smoke escaping Jongdae’s ever-curled lips.

 

“I’m sorry, Jongdae,” Joonmyun tells him earnestly, “Really I am.”

 

“Joonmyun, I get it. You’re sorry, I’m sorry, everyone’s sorry. We can never say what we’re sorry for, just that we’re sorry, sorry people.” Jongdae muses bitterly, ending his short rant by blowing puff of smoke right in Joonmyun’s face.

 

“Want one?” Jongdae offers him a cigarette with freezing hands, but Joonmyun accepts, placing the orange bit between his lips. Jongdae leans in and presses the end of his cigarette to Joonmyun’s, and Joonmyun inhales sharply as a rush of nicotine and unresolved desire enters his lungs. Despite this he finds himself breathing easily in a matter of moments, falling into a familiar routine of breathing toxic fumes in and out like oxygen.

 

“It’s kinda funny, seeing you like this,” Jongdae remarks, tapping the excess ash off his cigarette, “Who would’ve thought _this_ would make us see eye to eye?”

 

Joonmyun doesn’t reply, simply savoring the acrid flavor of tobacco and mutual understanding. After a while he mutters, mostly to himself, “Well, it’s not like there’s any reason to compete anymore.”

 

“Not since I went under. You have the stocks all to yourself now,” Jongdae shrugs, this time puffing out rings of vapor as he exhales. As if on cue, his feet disappear under the snow, the dull orange of his cigarette glowing lower.

 

“Jongdae, where are you going?” Joonmyun wonders aloud, wondering why he’s now a head taller.

 

“I won’t be going anywhere for awhile,” Jongdae promises, taking a flask out of his pocket and taking a swig before offering, “Want a drink?”

 

Joonmyun takes the flask and downs some of the bitter liquid, ignoring the burn that sears down his throat through his chest. He welcomes the burn this time, the same way he welcomes the rough sting of smoke in his lungs, and the bitterness of Jongdae’s company.

 

“I always liked to believe the competition was friendly,” Jongdae muses aloud, ashing the last cigarette and taking out a new one, “It kept me from hating you.”

 

His knees have disappeared into the dirt, so Joonmyun has to lean down to light his next cigarette. Jongdae’s eyes peer into his own as he mirrors what Jongdae did earlier, connected by the gaze as well as the line of tobacco between them. This time, Joonmyun doesn’t pull back as quickly, savoring that fresh rush of fumes and poorly concealed fervor.

 

“I never hated you, Jongdae,” Joonmyun says as he exhales, “We were pitted against each other a lot, but I never hated you.”

 

“Well, you know what they say about misery,” Jongdae chuckles, his laugh soon turning into sputtering coughs as he chokes on smoke. Joonmyun offers a hand to steady him, but by now Jongdae is down to his waist in snow, just out of reach until Joonmyun kneels beside him.

 

“Madness too,” Joonmyun notes in a faraway voice, overwhelmed with memories, “Madness demands to be understood.”

 

“When did you start sounding so enlightened? You should’ve been a writer,” Jongdae wheezes, his laugh breathy as it cracks at the end, “I should’ve been a writer too. Maybe we could’ve worked together. Who knows?”

 

His chest is disappearing fast as he sinks lower and lower into the snow, and Joonmyun grabs the lapels of his suit to try and keep him above ground. Overwhelming dismay seeps through him as he tightens his grip, trying desperately to pull him back up. It’s heartbreaking to watch him waste away like this. Even if he looks completely fine Joonmyun knows he’s anything but.

 

“Oh let me go Joonmyun,” Jongdae rolls his eyes, but despite this he places his hands on Joonmyun, choosing his face as his anchor as he feels himself slide further into the ground, “Let me go and have another drink.”

 

“I can’t let you go. Not like this,” Joonmyun insists, grunting at the effort of trying to hoist him up. The ground itself protests as it swallows Jongdae faster, liquifying into white quicksand.

 

“Yes you can. I made my choice, he made his, and you made yours,” Jongdae smirks as he slowly lets go of Joonmyun, “I’ll tell Minseok you said hello.”

 

With that, Jongdae grabs his flask and downs the rest of it in one go, fulling sinking into the earth. His name appears etched in stone next to the other graves, all sharing the same lineage.

 

Joonmyun sighs and turns around, seeing that a light turned on inside his family’s mausoleum. Despite the distance, Joonmyun swears he can feel warmth coming from inside, so he follows the dull orange glow. Frowning, Joonmyun cautiously opening the door, hoping to find just a bit of comfort inside.

 

He instantly regrets his decision when he comes face to face with a gun, the barrel pointed right between his eyes. Panic takes over in a matter of moments, and he backs away as he tries to leave. But the door is gone, replaced with the wall of his living room as he stares ahead. A tall man points the gun at him, and a sharp sense of dread courses through him as he recognizes him. He knows that sharp jawline all too well, those thick eyebrows partly hidden by his night black hair. He’d know this man anywhere. He’s prepared to run again until he sees that his other arm is coiled tight around Chanyeol’s neck.

 

“No!” Joonmyun charges forward, only to be stopped by the gun, now pressed right beside his heart.

 

“Not another step,” His harsh voice commands, voice low and detached from emotion in a way Joonmyun’s only read about in textbooks.

 

Chanyeol struggles in the gunman’s grasp, looking even more faded than before. His entire body is tinted gray, and Joonmyun can clearly see the gunman’s attire through Chanyeol’s form. It’s the same purple turtleneck and black slacks from when they last met.

 

“Let him go,” Joonmyun orders, glaring at the gunman.

 

“Or what?” The gunman asks, tilting his head, “It’s not like you’ll do anything. You didn’t do anything the last time.”

 

“Oh wait, that’s a lie,” The gunman continues before Joonmyun can respond, “You _did_ do something last time, it just wasn’t enough.”

  
  
“This isn’t like last time, Sehun,” Joonmyun sneers, taking a step forward. The gun digs into his chest, but right now he doesn’t care. He just wants to get Chanyeol away from this maniac.

 

“No, you’re right,” Sehun agrees, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips, “This time I’ve got your lover.”

 

Chanyeol continues to struggle in his grasp, fingers clawing at his forearm as he tries to escape. Joonmyun feels his breath stop as he watches Sehun press the gun to Chanyeol’s head. Chanyeol stops moving, stiff with fear as he stares at Joonmyun with a wide-eyed, expectant stare.

 

“But one thing is the same,” Sehun taunts, a small smile tugging on his lips, “You didn’t see me coming did you? You didn’t think that this could possibly happen to you and the ones you love?”

 

Joonmyun frowns and prepares to protest, only to sigh as he admits, “No, I didn’t.”

 

“Exactly,” Sehun’s smile widens, and he tightens his grip on Chanyeol as he continues, “You try so hard for the world to see you as a hero, that you don’t save the ones who need you most. You have a knack for ignoring the ones closest to you.”

 

Joonmyun grits his teeth and scowls, not wanting to admit that Sehun’s right. That Sehun, for all his madness and brutality, is right. Cold metal materializes in his hand and Joonmyun quickly realizes he’s holding a gun, one that’s identical to the one Sehun has.

 

“Now’s your chance to be the hero. The hero your family needed. Kill me.” Sehun commands, cocking his gun and putting his finger on the trigger.

 

Joonmyun points his own gun at him, aiming right for his chest. His finger slides onto the trigger and starts to squeeze, but the gun won’t fire. The trigger won’t give, even as he uses both hands to try and fire the gun. Dread spikes through him in time with his heartbeat as he wills the gun to fire. But it doesn’t work. Nothing works.

 

“But you won’t cross that line, will you Joonmyun?” Sehun tilts his head knowingly, tsking in disappointment.

 

Joonmyun tries harder to fire the gun, gripping the trigger as tight as he can. But it won’t give, no matter how hard he tries, no matter how hard he wants to shoot him right in the head, he can’t. It doesn’t work.

 

“Hmm...maybe this will give you a bit more motivation,” Sehun drops Chanyeol on the ground leaving him to gasp for air before grabbing his arm, ripping off one of the sleeves on his robe. He pulls out a serrated blade, the harsh edge holding a blinding glint even in this low light.

 

“You remember this game, don’t you Joonmyun?” Sehun smirks as the presses the tip of the knife to Chanyeol’s wrist, right against his pulse, “One for each minute, til an hour passes. Let’s see if you can get a perfect score again.”

 

“Joonmyun I’m sorry. I have to go.” Chanyeol mutters, shaking his head as he goes limp in Sehun’s hand.

 

Joonmyun, understanding he’s going to disappear, protests, “No, don’t leave me! I can fix this, I promise!”

 

“I’m going to leave you with him. I’m sorry.” Within moments Chanyeol disappears once again, the smoke barely lingering this time.

 

Sehun watches the smoke dissipate before sighing in disappointment, “That was always my favorite game to play with hostages. Oh well, that means I can play with you instead.”

 

“How much do you want this time?” Joonmyun puts his hands up in surrender, letting the defective gun fall to the ground, “Five million? Ten million? Money is no object, really. I don’t need it.”

 

“I don’t want any money. _Your_ head is worthless on its own,” Sehun sneers, scowling at him before his face morphs into a sly grin, “Besides, I’d much rather talk this out.”

 

Sehun sits down on his couch, folding his legs as he twirls his gun in his hand. He cocks his head to the spot next to him, “Come, sit. I’m not gonna kill you yet.”

 

Dull rushes of fear pulse through Joonmyun’s bloodstream as he sits beside him. His hands shake, but he puts them on his knees to hide his discomfort. He sits up straight and holds his head high, holding Sehun’s gaze no matter how much he doesn’t want to. His dark eyes send chills down his spine, but he keeps staring straight ahead, willing himself not to show weakness.

 

“I knew you weren’t gonna be a hero,” Sehun muses aloud, shaking his head as that petulantly discouraged tone returns.

 

“I had to do something,” Joonmyun responds bitterly, hands curling into fists.

 

“What surprised me most is that you _tried_ to be a hero,” Sehun’s voice takes on a cruel lilt, taunting him the way a playground bully would, “You, someone who’s never fired a gun in his life, and you expected to barge in and save them?”

 

“I had to do something,” Joonmyun snaps, standing over Sehun, “I couldn’t let a madman like you get away with that.”

 

“No, you couldn’t let a madman like me get away with your money,” Sehun corrects, raising a finger as if to shush him, “That’s why you didn’t pay me when I called.”

 

Joonmyun, rather than admit he’s right again, lunges and grabs Sehun by the collar, rage coursing through him in hot waves, “You’re insane, and you deserve to die for what you did.”

 

“Maybe so,” Sehun considers briefly, before chuckling darkly as he remarks, “But even I’m not dumb enough to leave my safety on.”

 

Sharp pain shoots next to his heart, before two identical pinpricks of pain lodge themselves into his side. His hands come up to cover the spots as he falls backward, landing with a thud on his living room floor. He can’t even register the dull pain in the back of his head as blood spills onto the floor, dying his rug dark red as pain pulses from his bullet wounds. He looks up at the ceiling as he breathes shallowly, chest rising and falling rapidly as the world around him fades to black…

*****

When Joonmyun opens his eyes he finds himself in a world of gray, lying on dry, brittle grass. The moon has disappeared, leaving a dark sky that’s swirled with clouds. Thick shadows close in around him, but one faded figure he can make out clearly.

 

“Chanyeol!” He calls into the distance, rushing forward to meet him. Chanyeol looks even more faded than before, barely there as he drags his feet to meet him. His head is lowered, as if he doesn’t care to know where he’s going. That doesn’t stop Joonmyun from running to him, the grass crunching noisily beneath his feet. It certainly doesn’t stop him from trying to grab his cloak and pull him closer, despite the fact that his hands slip through before he can get a grip.

 

“Chanyeol, what is this place?” Joonmyun asks, recognizing it from earlier.

 

“Don’t you remember?” Chanyeol’s voice is soft and heavy with fatigue as he shuffles forward, beckoning for Joonmyun to follow. They walk until they come across a lake, the water sluggishly swirling before them as it reflects the swirled sky.

 

“I guess it looks different with no one here,” Chanyeol chuckles so quietly Joonmyun can barely hear him, but he doesn’t seem to care as he speaks, “We used to come here all the time.”

 

Joonmyun nods slowly as realization floods over him. How could he forget this park? They used to come here all the time, before everything happened. A bench forms behind them from the shadows and they both take a seat, operating off of muscle memory.

 

“I guess the darkness makes this look different too,” Chanyeol observes as he looks around, his guitar propped up on the side of the bench. Picking it up, he strums a slow, familiar tune, the notes echoing and floating just above the water.

 

For a while Joonmyun sits back and sighs, relaxing for the first time since he’s been plunged into this chaotic world. Chanyeol hums along to his guitar, and Joonmyun finds himself harmonizing with him, closing his eyes as their song soothes him to stillness.

 

A dissonant chord alerts Joonmyun, panic returning as quickly as it left, “Chanyeol? What’s wrong?”

 

“Joonmyun, I-I have to go,” Chanyeol blurts out, disappearing into nothing before his eyes.

 

“No you can’t go! Not you too!” Joonmyun pleads, reaching out to him in vain, “Please, don’t leave me!”

 

“Joonmyun I’m sorry, I-I can’t, I have to...” Chanyeol trails off as he falls over, disappearing into smoke before he has the chance to hit the ground.

 

“Chanyeol!” Joonmyun cries out, grasping at the air to try and hang onto something, anything, of Chanyeol. But once again, the last wisps slide through his fingertips, and he’s left alone in the dark.

* * *

Joonmyun wakes up with a start, flailing as he gasps for air. He looks around frantically, relieved to find that he’s in his bedroom. His real bedroom, and not some frightening depiction of it.

 

“Shh, shh, it’s ok,” Chanyeol’s voice, his Chanyeol, holds him in a gentle embrace, “You were having another nightmare.”

 

Joonmyun presses his face against Chanyeol’s chest, letting out a shaky exhale as he feels his large hands rubbing circles on his back. He grips Chanyeol’s shirt with an iron grip, not wanting to let go any time soon.

 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Chanyeol suggests softly, his other hand running through his hair. Joonmyun leans into his touch before shaking his head, closing his eyes as he tries to steady his heart.

 

“Will you stay with me?” Joonmyun requests gently, adding a soft, “Please?”

 

“Of course,” Chanyeol nods, kissing his forehead, “I’m not going anywhere.”

 

Joonmyun lets himself be arranged so he’s laying on Chanyeol’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat as he basks in his warmth. He smiles softly at his answer, finding himself soothed to stillness in a matter of moments.


End file.
